I took a pair of scissors
the charcoal silk edging my fingertips
it could lift the weigh off the façade
it could loosen the straps of my mask
the dare was to not ignite the stigma
but these stereotypes who have burnt,
even the icebergs
the razor wounds were like paper cuts
but the tool of surrender could give me
freedom, a miracle
I let the blade glide across my locks
as the burden danced around my feet
and when the wind touched my face
I could finally feel it resonating in my spine.
-She sighed, when he enquired the change in her hairstyle.
YOU ARE READING
THE GIRL WHO SPOKE POETRY
PoetryThe thing about pain is, it makes you question.. what makes you human? ____________ **Not cliche, I repeat, Not cliche, WARNING, not cliche**
